One thing that I can’t do is sit back idle while I sense tears in her eyes.
I can’t let that happen.
One thing I can’t do is imagine anyone trying to hurt her in any way.
I guess that means I’m gullible, right?
People are people, and I put absolutely nothing as being below them, but she’s an inspiration. She’s a free spirit in public and a good converser in private. She’s a being of light in the tunnel of life, and I’m glad to know her. But somehow she still hurts. And when she hurts, I don’t know why, but I can feel something in my spirit turning.
What’s going on? Why is this happening? Lost words, empty convo, I’m confused to the point of losing grips on myself, my therapy failing for the first time in years. I’m just as shaken as she is, and yet she can rebuild.
Why is this cherry child crying clear tears of pain? Why has this been put in her life? What is it I can do to help? Things I’ll never answer in my lifetime, but the mystery is still killing me.
Upset sadness clouds my judgement, questions arise that I refuse to answer, wishing for her attention sometimes but then not the next. And yet all I want to be is there.
It just feels different, like the balance of the world has shifted in disturbing proportions and now I have no control over what I initially thought I completely overpowered.
Am I really a shoulder to cry on or merely another passing emotion in a setting of many? Is my feeling really different from anyone else’s in this confusion?
One thing I can’t do is let the questions pass without trying to reach out and caress the answers. I need to know what it is that’s going on, I need to know how I can be the knight in shining armor for the princess who’s stolen my heart.
Is that wrong?
Is it considered obsessive if I study people in an effort to learn any and everything I can about a situation I’ve never had to deal with? Am I supposed to feel as stupid as I do when the things I do don’t work?
One thing I have to know is if there are answers to my questions.
The questions I refuse to ask.

I think you refuse me simply because I don’t give you any reasons to.
I told you I didn’t care about your past or about your afflictions
I told you that I would accept your flaws and show you love because of them.
I told you that I would respect you unlike anyone who you’ve known.

And yet now I’m the imperfectd counterpart of whom can’t receive love.

I guess I’m oxymoronic.
Because I’m so eager to accept the flaws of people who won’t accept mine.

Cinder flamed ashen skin covers my lips as the thirst grows in my ravaged brain. I lick them and the wind soaks up the moisture.
The heatwave of my body is made aware in my eyes.
I blink yet the sights don't seem to register.
I speak, yet the words don't escape my vocal chords.
I feel, yet the tangibility isn't confirmed in any aspect.
Emptiness is made a factor.
I found out sorrofully that I couldn't connect with the caged bird, I thought I understood why it cried, but my meaning was incorrect, my thoughts were that of a loveless loner ready to embrace the freedom of the cage in its heart.
I was thoroughly incorrect. Why does the caged bird sing?
It sings because it wants others to feel its pain, it has nothing to do with perserverence.
It sings because through song anything is possible, through song
It finds its escape...

Normal
The word pertaining to the behavior of the majority of the masses, yet I refuse the title like unmixed blood cells, pushing the average in me back until I’m taken by my higher self, my true form.
But you wouldn’t know much about that. You can’t wait to get home to watch TV or play your video games.
It’s normal.
Higher
Whether through drugs or levitation, getting high is easy. However, the average cannot reach this level, they cannot display this power. Only we can, us being the lyrical miracles that the world has once craved and the world being those around us that give us our inspirations.
Higher.
And I guess I’m a space shuttle. Yet I have felt no high in chemicals, no uplifting in elevators, just the heightening fuel that ignites in my brain. Yet some can’t take the heat of a burning mind filled with questions. But can you?
We are poems, poetry, poetic expressions. But it’s a dual edged blade of which we have all found. We’re all special, from A.D.D to suicidal, we have the experience to write tragedy. From love to loss we have the reason to write about romance. Love, fear, heroics, sadness, strength, all poetic expressions to us.
We are poets
The people who everyone looks at for supporting. Some of us are tough, some of us are pushovers, and some of us are pacifistic. Yet the reality of our gifts open up a new world for us.
We are poems
Our writings speak to our souls, that’s one more connection from our brains to our hearts and the entities beyond. I write about it and you understand where I come, my point of view. My pain, your inquiry, yet to hear it being read is poetic justice to our emotions.
We are communications
No, I don’t mean through phones or emails. I’m talking through spirit. You see a poet down, you help, period, as we are one and the same in heart.  A symbol of independence to those who forget the meaning of the word. But we’re a community and a family, so I love you like a brother or a sister because of the natural familiarity between us.
We are poetic.
Our lives are filled with instances where we simply need to express. Oh, the sweet and sour irony. Our day to day experiences speak for our poetic natures. Whether jamming to Taylor Swift or Tracy Chapman or Migos or even Luke Bryan, musics tell our moods and words tell our stories, our tales, our liveliness and oneness with our selves.
Poetic beings are we, and we are
Poetic

Classic fairytale love is what it was to us. You being the spoiled rich ******* the block and me the poor, lonely expresser who stole your heart as if I could live off the mere heat of it.
We were fated, middle school crushes, High school sweethearts, college lovers. Our closeness judged by the length of time we spent together, and as college kids, our making love was sweeter than honeysuckles, more spiceful than Spanish rice. We had a poetic passion unlike any the world had ever seen
But your love for me wore off fast, you’d acquired a taste for un-sampled  cuisine. That would’ve been fine had I not found out on my own. I found out about them, one or two would’ve been bad, but Six?!?! Do I bore you? Don’t try to wiggle your way out of this, it only hurts me more.
Your voice gets tighter as you ridicule me for my actions, but I can’t hear you anymore. I don’t know you, I fell in love with a love and a lover, not this whorish display in front of me. You yell louder, climaxing my urges, I send a jolting hand fast across your cheek. I already feel the guilt and regret, tears spilling from my eyes, I get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness.
You forgave me.
And somehow we ended up making love that night, only, it was no longer love. My regret fueled me, but I didn’t want to touch you anymore knowing how many hands do so in my absence. Now I thought we should go our separate ways.
We stop speaking but remain on friendly terms as you continue your cheating barrage on  your new lovers. I still have feelings for you, but the betrayal has me cornered in a pit of emotion that’s  steady pulling me down, down, down into an aggressive element.
But we are still friends, right? So I’d like you to come to a show that I’m making, I intend for it to be a wild ride. You watch the crumbling masquerade with painful eyes, the other audience members leave in shock at the agony of the destructed art. The show was a disaster that destroyed any chance at a career I had. You consoled me, filling my head with sweet words and fantasized hopes, keying in my engram of you.
We ended up in bed once more, bare bodies spent as we fell asleep. All it took was a moment of weakness.  I leave you momentarily to doze as until you fall asleep, crazy thoughts run through my head as I stare at my **** body in the bathroom mirror, a body that had been reserved for you. I tried hard to suppress the urges again, thinking of the good times we had and the wonderful love we made, but it wasn’t helping, It was only making my shy, sweet mind turn vicious.
No, don’t make me do this! Screaming in my head as a homicidal idea takes over my conscious mind. She had nothing to honestly do with this! But my rationality ebbs as my snapped heart seeks its retaliation. My world begins to disappear around me as the urge takes over. I am sensually invisible: no hearing, no sight, no feeling.
But the sensation seems to last only seconds before my senses snap back on and I discover what was to be…
What have I done !? Two slits where your cherry-wood brown eyes used to be and the guilty utensil in my hand, a knife, colored crimson all the way to the handle. I panicked in my guilt and got on my knees. No repentence for what I had done, too late and too heavy a burden to apologize.
But there was one way I could make my wrong a right, I could second the wrong. I could join you on the other side and remake what we had. The idea only flashes in my grieving brain, but it’s enough to make me settle on it. I put both hands on the handle, thrusting it heavily into my belly and commit my own honorable seppuku.
Passion killing is what they called it when the authorities arrived. Two long time lovers, dead before the dawn, I was influenced deeply by my mind, and my heart was betrayed by it. But now I guess we both know the extent of a betrayed Poetic Passion.

It’s like my life flashes before I can grip it
I think too much about what I try to say, and always end up messing my words up.
I can’t fix it. It’s grown on my
Growth
A product of time.
A sapling is born in a soul, that soul is tormented and the sapling struggles for life.
But the sapling endures in the freezing temperatures.
It knows it will blossom to become a true self-revelation.
When will this sapling become a tree?
Only time will tell

a distant memory is considered irrelevant, yet all a thought is is a formulating memory.
That's what I call this, a memory and the making, as you are you and I am I, I'd want to remember you for the long run, and keep you close to my soul

Your words are like a hidden key,

They unlock secret parts of me.

I might be your fall, but you’re a pick-me-up to me. I might have written my way into your book, but you did more, you illustrated your love clearly, you displayed it so publicly that it was somehow secreted in front of my own eyes.

Your ruby red cheeks provide a window into your mind, indicating what it is you think when I speak: happiness, anger, fear, contentment.

Your lips provide a physical contact point for us to meet, connection yet no wifi needed, communication yet no cell towers, A commitment between two invisible entities, a communication between two hearts.

My eyes betray my emotion as your cheeks betray yours. What study is it that requires me out of your head? What history is more important than that of our own? What pit is so deep, so dark as to keep the sun away? For, love, tell me this, and I shall change it faster than a bad tv channel.

Your worries should fade, for they are nothing but spiteful superficial seeds sown by one who claims to dis thee. Hateration is a disease, but, my love, when one is as beautiful as you are or as sweet and mellifluous as you, you must accept that you attract it.

Taking note of your existence is like being in a building burning and continuing your business, ergo I always do what I can to let you know that I see you. I love you, I loved you, and I’m loving you to this day. So may our loves last as long as our kisses, and may our kisses last as long as our intimatic energies can remain stabilized.

No emotions.
No pains.
No love.
Just emptiness. Maybe it was heart break, maybe not. But I'm chill with it at first...
Then my brain goes numb.
and my body quivers in public, me trying to play it off. But I know what it is.
My emotions, my anger, my love
all coming back to me.

The fantasies are endless for me, ever the tease is the feeling of mutual love and loving that I fall asleep to the dream every night..

Body rocking happiness as we love each other's minds to a lull, bodies compressed into one as we made a new form of delicious.
It's clear I was ***** minded. My lips tingled as I watched her toes curl and listened to her voice ask for more. ****** after ****** until her voice hit a high note and It would chill my spine into a frozen jut into her once more before my breath became shallow and I would look down at my prey.
I would see that smile and lick my lips in excitement, more than ready to allow this round to end.
She would turn herself over and let me grab her cushion as I gave her the most I could without tipping over and closing my eyes. She would breath heavily into my pillow and hiss between her teeth, clutching at the covers like they were the only thing to keep her from falling.
The feel of her body would be enough to motivate me to continue until i heard louder moans from my baby, she would giggle at me and beg me to end it for her.
But I would make the little devil wait for it. And with a smile I'd tease her essence with the sweet words of linger that would let her know that I'm in it til her end. And then I'd tease her body
ever so softly
ever so firmly
until I would make her body shake uncontrollably and she would move on me, faster and faster until I would have to grit my teeth and regretfully ask her to slow down. But she wouldn't listen. She would have it, and she would have it now.........

But before the ******, I would always awake from this dream and sigh. My mind might be slightly *****, but a ***** mind without action is simply a mind that belongs to me.
A mind filled with fantasy

My dreams dance around me like shadows dance around fire pits: swishing from side to side in so seductive a manner that I am mesmerized by their show. She is a dream to me. Dancing her body of lust around me in an effort to taunt me into submission, and I dare say I'm willing to submit to her.
There is an energy that she lets off that chokes my breathing when I speak and slows my reaction when our hands touch, for she is the kryptonite to my superman, and I willingly dive into her piercing crystals.
From the flick of her tongue, I know she is willing, come, butterfly, I will teach you how to soar as covers fly over over your body and your mind races with the pleasures I intend to lay upon you. Tell me that your mind doesn't get lost in the lust and I will tell you how much I'd love to prove you wrong.
Oh how I long to taste your seduction. On so many an occasion I had fantasized our connection as you paraded in front of me, dancing like shadows around a pit of fire. And I would savor the sight and enjoy the release of my love that ensued once my mind became clearer and my surroundings become empty.
My young goddess of lust. Might I savor your flavor and enjoy your skin like I wish? Perhaps one day when the timing is right, I shall take you down like I have countless times before in other realities and give you the taste of pleasure you pry me for.
Maybe one day I'll pull your head back by the hair and inhale your fragrance as I begin to devour you slowly and enjoyably for the world to see. Maybe one day I'll have you lie in front of me and open yourself for my exploration.
And on that day, I want you to know that you turned me into a beast of lust as built up like the seed I would eject into you.
You have turned me into a creature addicted to your skin. Addicted to your tongue. Addicted to your lips. A monster addicted to your ***.
You shall see my broken bonds as I tear your clothes, you shall see my shattered chains as I ram you with the anger hidden inside my brain and the frustration hidden deep inside my soul represented by the bite of my serpent.
And I shall abuse you.
Perhaps you'll respect me once you get a taste of the hell I had been through chasing you. Maybe when your back is bent, legs gaping and body frozen stiff by the fear of my lightening strikes will you see how willing I was to please you.
And not until I tear you apart will my flame of evil lust be extinguished. Not until your body is red from my pinches, not until your breast ache from the pull of my lips, or until the bite marks I leave you with begin to ooze your sweet nectar of red tears, not until then will I let you go. Even then, I may lick you clean once more and send you into the world a purified being.
You are a dancer in my eyes. A dancer of shadows and a product of the pit of fire from which you were birthed. But once I have your skin in my clutches, the only fire you'll recognize is the fire in my eyes as I make you moan the world away and the smoke brings tears to your eyes.

Lilies Dancing in the winds of blown bombs over my crashing city of delicacy.
Body craving pleasures produced by electric dedications.
Mind venomous as snakes in the grasses that run over my colored flowers of perfection as they slither hideously toward me, trying to get a sip of the inner being known as me.
Thousands of feet trampling through my serenity like I am the grounds in a war zone- no harmony.
Chilled through the bone as I see the smokes of blazes flow through the air with a menacing perspective.
Glazed eyes as I stare down an enemy I can't see, fighting the feeling of being crushed like the grasses beneath his feet.
I must fight back, I must get out, I must get away.
Thrown fists and black sight, heat so strong yet so clear and crisp that it could've been produced abnormally.
A body cleared and a soul freed, yet us stuck on the earth are still being crushed by unseen force like flowers in a field
Shattered Irises

shyness is a sword's sheath
the thing that covers up all of the intent and all of the actuality of an individual.
I am shy
but not because I'm hiding motives
but rather because it's the only way of explaining myself to people.

I made a song for you last week
And every time I hear the melody, it reminds me of your voice. So beautiful and high like the sun at dusk, so smooth like the creme color of your skin, so quiet like thieves in the night
I made a song for you.
I just wish that we lived to hear it.
No, neither of us is resting in a coffin, you’re just resting in the arms of someone who deserves you more than I do, I think I’m dead to you now
That’s cool. I’ve been zombified for years living an existence I felt meaningless since I was able to understand what the word meant, but I miss the way you gave me a reason to lift my head.
A reason to show a smile that you were in love with
A reason to use some of my creativity for happiness and not sadness.
I wrote a song for you
And as pen hit paper, I was taken aback to the time our heads collided on the first kiss and how we used to lock arms in the lunch lines like middle-schoolers.
Young spirits with old souls, what kindred black magic kindled the conception of this crush.I’m crazy, I’m crazy, completely ****** trying to find the path back to you.
I made a song for you.
But I’ll never show it to you
So I might as well rip it up and start over again.

Single relationship

I told myself that I’d be a complete social chameleon, said I wouldn’t let anyone dictate what I liked.
Turns out they were both lies.
I told myself that I’d love me more than anyone else ever could, I said that my strength would be what ran my environment.
Guess that wasn’t to be.

I itch for a relation but run from relationships.
And I hate it so much that it burns like copper coils.
It invades my lungs like air
and breaks me down like bad *** kids near cardboard boxes.

But for some reason I identify with it now, it’s like, I’m intimate with loneliness.
I can caress its jagged edged emptiness with the warmth of my fingertips at any given day, and it always responds.
I can speak into its bitter silence and feel the echoes reverberate back to my lonesome ears, and it feels like I’m hearing someone else with my voice.
I can kiss its luscious darkness and combine with it anytime imaginable, and it makes me feel loved by simply everything.

You can call it a wish. You can call it imagination or depression.
But regardless of what you think, I’m in a single relation.
And I hold hands with it proudly.

So young and wild, she’s a southern child.
Her heart of expression and her smile of the sky.
I can’t tell you my luck just to be her guy.
I’m so lonely without her that I can’t deny.
And if she isn’t pleased, I will find out why.

His love is liken to hers: infinite, never wasting.
A flavor I savor steady at tasting.
His Love is desired, but who shall give it to who?
He holds it tight, so none may have it, but there’s access for you.

Decadent, delicious dark desire with a warm taste, it’s love.
The main ingredient in the mix, the best that I know of.
Fun and fuzzy feelings of fantasy, she spoils a heart in truth.
And it makes me think of how it would be if we were still together in youth.

Wet and warm, a quiet storm, no rains, but sound is mild.
So soft and sweet, so young and wild, by god, she’s a southern child.

Shocks of pain haven’t the slightest effect on me, You’re the cure to the pains I’ve felt. You’re the one who clears my mind like the backspace clears Microsoft pages. Simple as you are, you solve complexities that the common world can’t handle.
I was lonely once, I had a gap in my chest that wasn’t filled easy, in fact, no mortal could fill it. Only you could, a queen, a goddess I had called you. And you didn’t disappoint, you held out untl the end of the war of hearts, and I’m in love with you for it.
Yet we don’t move, we stay in the same position as we always have, lovers, loves. When can we move on?
I was thinking marriage, you were thinking Quickie. I was thinking whole-hearted love, you were thinking child-like intimacy. But We’ve met at a new point, the point that I knew was an inevitable circumstantial element.
Destruction.
Look at what you’ve turned me into , look at my words and imagine the heat behind them. Look into the lines of my words and imagine them as my eyes. They’re filled with the tears of the lies you had put into my ears. The hopes that you hyped me up to. The stories that you concocted to blind me from your true self.
You were love.
That emotion that I had blindly chased after in hopes that I’d achieve it.  You lied. You told me all I wanted to hear in exchange for me to give my life to you, the emotion that has inspired many a war.
I tried to refuse you, for I hadn’t felt you much. I just wanted to feel special to someone, special to anything other than myself, and you couldn’t do that for me. You didn’t keep your promise, in fact, you destroyed my faith in the world.
Poem after poem I wrote about it, about you, Yet you still disperse with every setup you create, stop toying with me, Fight like you’re supposed to . Stop throwing sand and running, you hurt only yourself.
My soul is crushed, heart stomped on by the boots of thousands, tears absorbed by the thirsty lips of millions, skin digested by the hunger of those now sated. I did this for you, and I do it no more.
No more shall I spend my time, wallowing, wonting to your abusive nature. I spend more time thinking of ou than I do thinking of my own life. You bring my soul to an ache, my eyes to an overflow, my head to a crippling pain and my body to the ground, toppling like a tower struck from the bottom.
Now do you feel my pain? Do you see the internal struggle you’ve caused me? Do you feel the emotion in the mere words I utter? Do you gaze at the water raining over the fire in my eyes? Do you see the physical decay of my form? The form that was set up for love and loving? I’m hurting, I can’t stress that to you enough. My body’s failing me, I’m dying inside and out, and the cause, I think you know now, is You…
Yours truly,

   A wrecked and ravaged spirit.

Static builds around my fingertips as I run my fingers down the jacket you left me.
I **** my hand away in shock.
My energy is still electronegative for you.
I try to build up my thoughts and let them tumble, I try to put myself in an emotional slump over you, I try to feel real anguish for  you.
But all I get is magnetic repulsion.
I realize I don’t know you..
So why the hell should I tear myself down
because our intimatic electricity ran its course

Is it bad to think of strangers when your friends are around?
Why is it that a person you don’t know stays a mystery when all you have to do is introduce yourself?
What is a stranger really?
And why do I keep making eye contact with them?

No more anger, no more tears
No more lies, no more fears.

Sounds Like heaven, right.
If it exists, that's where I hope I'm heading.

Every time we talk, this cherry child has me hypnotized
Empty eyes and beautiful voice has my mind tingling
Itching like my palms.

Every time she comes in the room, the air gets colder
Leopard-skin lover with a pompous soul and a vicious need for attention
I am her mediator, showing the love she desires and cutting through previous facades
Calming like my kisses.

Every time we lock eyes, this being of wonder gets me star-struck
Woman of wonderlust, being of beauty with hips so vibrant as to cause movement
Dancing like my footfalls.

Sensuous beauty with the world on her back and a lot on her mind
Sitting on child swings like kindergarteners and just thinking of her past lives
I place my hands over yours as I guide you through the air with each push
Swinging like my fingertips.

Crazy as it is I’ve made no choices, as the loves I’ve felt were real
But there’s something about helping a person who is down
Deep conversation turned theory on love turned burden upon burden’s release
And when all is said and all is done, there’s nothing left to do but listen to the music of us two.
Sitting on the swings listening to the rhythm of the air, my love, I must choose you.
For no other can offer the sweet satisfaction of watching a young bird soar through the skies and be her wings, no other can offer the kiss of one who’s done it least, no other can show such truth.
So I’ll always cherish those talks on the swing-set and the problems uncovered as we chatted the day to dusk.
Steady pushing you higher and higher, letting you escape the hell and tears and lifting you.
Ever Swinging like my fingertips

My heart is like an animal, and you, my love, the tamer.
You are the very glue that holds me together, and I think you know it. From the first time I saw you pass me in the hallway, I knew that our souls would somehow connect, and you were to be my other soul, my other part, a new me.
Did you feel it too? Did you know what it was I was feeling? Because I felt like you did. From your shy laugh to your sullen conversation, all of you intrigued me, and you didn’t even have to try. I knew I was probably a few numbers down on your list, but this wasn’t the lottery for us, we were meant, and ironically it took longer for us both to recognize it and shorter for us to separate, yet still be together in spirit.
When I saw you that day, and you saw me, I knew the flame was reconnected as if it were fed into the very pit of which it would burn and multiply for all eternity, a new born flame for a newly forged love.
We are the fire
I the flame
You the fuel
Yet neither is effective without the other, for what is a flame without its fuel? It’s a mere spark, one whose heat may be felt for mere half instances and leaving a forsaken light to show its treachery. No, that wilt not be us this here day.
You and I know what this is; an intermission to us is actually a life-time to the world. Let us glide on the wind that we produce through the rotations of our natural axis, rotating around each other like dance partners, yet no sport do we see this as.
You’ve asked before what my hidden intentions were, and I was honest with it, I have none. Yet because of the cracks in your heart and the chips taken off of your acceptance and pride, you refuse me. But I’ll be patient, waiting for you like the crops wait on the sun for their nourishments, but don’t keep me waiting too long lest you drive my soul away from you.
Now do you see it? I am truer than a fable told by the witness, you can put trust in me. But no, you don’t see me the way I do. Over time I may be able to break down your barriers, but not at once. And when that time comes, when I miraculously pass your tests, I want you to look me in my eyes, smile that beautiful smile and speak to me.
“My love, his love, her love, their former, my current, and their never seen future. Love me like I love you, for now that I see into you my air is lighter and my courage raised because I know that I have you backing me no matter what. Thank you for the love, for without it I would not have managed. Kiss me like you do, that way I can feel your heat adding to mine as if this were addition.”
And I would kiss you. I’d watch you bite your lip as if you were confused and make you believe what you have seen, the true love of a king, a god, a lover, your lover. That one that sees you as a friend that is closer than the rest will ever get, that one that keeps your secrets passed the grave, past eternity, past indefinitely and all the way until the end. Your shoulder filled with the tears you cry and the confessions that you spoke. Your necessary outside view in every situation you require me, and your third-party vote against whatever you deem unfit for you.
Love me like you do and we shall be fine, for your delicious love is all my taste-buds have ever, ever desired.

I'm sorry, I don't remember you, what was your name? Funny how you can't remember who I am yet you were my world at one point.
An introduction wil sufice, my name is sea, yours must be moon because I'm steady drawn to you while you taunt me with your perfection.
bless me with the smile I'm used to and I may give you the carress of which you've been forgetting so it may jog your memory.
Do you still not recognize me? Perhaps a slight lock of the lips... Welcome back love, I've missed you far too much.
If only life were as simple as the above described, maybe then I might see her. The soul of a butterfly, the heart of a pheonix, yet a love with the strength of a thousand hearts.
She is my counterpart, a taboo to none but I, She.. the... god. My goddess of whom I've been missing. I welcome her with an open heart and a spacious view of her love.
I get on my knees in worship of my goddess, only to thank the lord for her. My personal blessing and I shall pay homage to her every chance I get.
To hold her, you can't imagine. She's the warmth of the sun, the sweetness of a black cherry, the softness of fresh picked cotton, yet ironically as cool as a glass of ice water to one parched and decrepit.
I'm in love, no, yes, no. What's the conflict? Why does it matter?
Am I not a the earth? Is she not a moon to me, or beter yet, an extension of my personal self? She satisfies the need for intimacy better than those before her and yet I can't think straight. Is this supposed to happen?
Mutual love. What I needed, she provided like a mother and child. Yet we're still at a disconnect.
She said we're romeo and juliet, did she not see the ending? or did that tell all I needed to know? I think not. She was a representation of what the heart wants, and the heart wants what it wants.
Sugar brown placid beauty, rest your head once more on my shoulders as we rest in a sunset meant for the long-hall and discuss what is meant to be of our distantly close relationship.
Pray we make it and kiss me goodbye, for when all is said and done no games shall we play but still bet it all against the odds.
Do you remember me? Nevermind colleague, we are in a multi-verse all our own.

The deep is the hole I fall into that has me in submission. The escape I find in the day, that keeps me sane in small doses, but drives me crazy in large ones.
Crazy for you
The deep is you, the only thing I think of half the time. Kissing your legs, ******* your toes, biting playfully on your neck, showing you my love for you and your body. Slowly caressing your curves and gently rubbing on your flesh, exploring you.
But it’s more than ****** love.
You say it’s ***, I say it’s intimacy. You say it’s foreplay, I say infatuation. Yet we’re on two of the same plane.
I poetically break you down like a pro, weakening your resolve and opening you up to options. Making you moister than weather, come with me, we’ll rain together. I’ll show you the pride in my heart and you’ll show me the love that I have needed for so long. I’ll show you my soul and its intentions, but only if you show yours as a consolation to my open and honest ways.
After I leave from a day of tension and anger, can you be there to greet me when I get back to you? Will you kiss me on the lips and welcome me back to the excitement I desire, the flames that I require to heat up my fire again?
You tell me ****** activity is what drives me, but that’s not how I see it. I see it as us bonding in a general way. Not reproductive, not recreational, just us two. But you still don’t believe me, and I don’t know why.
Ask me something about you, what’s your favorite number? !5. Your favorite movie? After-earth. Favorite tv show- shall I go on? Your favorite past time is cuddling up with a kindle and watching old re-runs from years ago. But yet you say I don’t know you?
I’m in too deep, it’s too good to end on a low note, my voice is low enough to carry the tones as low as you need it to go, we’ll get higher near the end, and hopefully I’ll ascend with you. I call you my lover, but you’re much more than that, you’re my counterpart, my other form placed in human. Baby, we’re nearly the same.
And it scares me.
Scares me that when you feed off of your own insecurities, you’re feeding off of mine too. Would you be  a bad parent? did you look good enough at prom? do you think people remember you when you step away? Stop thinking about it, love, come back to me and let’s live in the present like new pets in gift boxes.
I love you, ok, and regardless of how much it freaks you out to hear that word, it’s the truth, and you know it is. Do you feel the same? I don’t know, but I want to find out, before you drag me deeper inside.
The Deep

The feeling
To whom it may concern.
Caressing the curves of her hips has been long thought about.
Dancing to the music she makes.
Hearing her voice as we bicker or chat has been long considered about.
Listening to the breaths she takes.
Oh, listen to me going on. I’ve been fished in like trout, finding my hook like song writers, and yet I still take the bait with each passing day. Is it literal connection or mere intrigue of infatuations? Am I just ranting when I speak of her perfect imperfections?
She is an addiction as sweet as chocolate, but one so healthy as to compare to spinach, and I’d love to sample that intimacy. She’s a flower dancing in the wind, unaware of the forces provided, but yet opening her petals as the rain lets a staccato of drops down to nourish her.
And I watch as this little flower grows. And I develop a feeling.
A feeling that goes beyond love, reaching a plane that love can only lust to achieve. Beyond a hunger for attention and reaching into the very depths of my heart to pull out the emotion.
Reminiscence.
She is my future memory and my present past. A thought constantly on my mind, a form ever in my head and an opinion intended for gain. She is everything I lust, and yet lust doesn’t seem to be the word.
When she speaks, fireworks in my mind tell me to pay attention, forcing reactions out of me that I can only pray were subtle. When we match eye contact, my heart skips two beats before going back to normal, freezing my body in the wish of a romance. When she laughs, the tune replays in my mind, one of the things which I would love to hear over and over again.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, of all the fairer that roam these halls, tell me why it is that I choose one of whom I know the least, one of whom I struggle to speak to and stutter when around. Starlight, star-bright, tell me on this fair night, why I’d love her, though I wish I might, when we connect in so many other ways.
Giddy, graceful, gorgeous girl, with a side of personality unexplored. She still remains a mystery that I realize I may never solve. But it doesn’t deter me, in fact, I’m rooted like oak, mind twisted like tornadoes as I continue my last daydream of you.
Once again, you are my wish.
Once again, you’re on my mind.
And once again, I pray that someday,
You Let Us Love
~The Feeling

Ok, so maybe dreams do come true, maybe I am a romantic at heart and maybe I am a little hungry for someone’s attention.
It’s in human nature.
But now I don’t know what to say. It’s like one minute you’re a quiet thought of a possibility, and the next you’re more than that, you’re a possible in my world of confusion.
I’m so confused. What’s happening to me? Could I be tripping again? Lord, please don’t let me fall this time, please let me ride out a storm to a quiet peace that is true intimacy.
I want to hold the heart of someone whose heart is already given to someone else… I want to be the center in a double circle, but I know I’ll cause problems.
I want an intimacy, one I’ve been secretly searching for since the last, but I know the outcome. I know what will happen and I know what could become of another soul that ripped a hole in my chest with the separation severed by force.
I don’t want that.
I want her, but I don’t want her heartache, or the responsibility of knowing that I caused it. Call me lazy, call me cheap, call me crazy, call me weak.
But one thing you can’t call me is untrue.
So Maybe I’m tripping, maybe I’m falling for a girl with the issues of one who shouldn’t be allowed to stress over such things, maybe I’ve fallen for a broken soul that I believe I could fix, maybe I am the broken soul that needs a fix. All I know is that I might be forming what I dread and desire.
Maybe I’m adding to the heat of my heart.

I fell in love with a profile and a personal text, does that make me weak? I fell in love with a personality rather than a person, does that make me a statistic?
I’ve never been able to form a real physical bond, yet I’m intimate with intimacy, I’m contained by caresses and blessed and blissed within a warm kiss.
I’ve wanted love from you for a while, kiss the forehead, munch the lips, tasting the love spawned physically between us. What would you think of me if you knew?
What would you say if I kissed you right now, locking lips with my love and making a show of stroking your long black hair? What would you say if I told you I loved you and wanted what was best for you? Would you listen to me, love, would you?
I long to be heard by you. Apple cinnamon, sugar sweet, so sweet to bring a pain to the heart of a double-crosser, so sweet as to bring any man to his knees in submission to you: a ghostly figure, luminous dark eyes, yellowish pearls as teeth, body fit for who it was meant, and a love as strong as the chemistry that keeps our hearts pumping and our minds alive and well.
I want you, I desire  you, I am in a state of infatuation so deep under myself it gets hard to breathe, but the only one who can help me out of this hole is you.
Let me be your poet, I’ll lust you in words oh sweet as to instantly cause cavities.
Let me be your infatuation, I light a spark in your heart and tend it until it roars into a flame, then into a fire, a fire as hot as to melt the shackles around you, around your soul.
Let me be your love. This I beg of you. I want to be your everything, your anything. I want my name to be synonymous with “heart”, I want to cause jamborees and jubilees in your mind by simply saying the phrase I’ve meant for so long to say.
I love you.
I do love you, so let me. Let me be the light in the dark tunnel. I don’t mean to open this to interpretation, I only mean to pray to be around and help you through.
Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you. Sitting as I am, with my mind in disarray, this phrase is all I can repeat.
I am bare, love, and you clothe me.
I am pained, love, and you heal me.
But I am lonely, and as of this moment, I anticipate your cure once more.

@The Jacket.
Love, can I treat you like I treat my jacket? Taking you wherever I go, showing the love I have for you through my sleeves and tuning you to my body, pulsating throbs of my heart as our two frictions force reaction.
I want to have you close to me, heavy hood be your hair as it sinks close to me, covering my neck with loving protection, covering my shoulders with your arms entwined with mine as if we were truly one, covering my length and letting me know that we are at a temperature of comfort and ability.
I want your body to clothe me, zip up tight and never let go, hugging me with all the comfort in the world and lifting yourself as to be a silent watcher to me, a shield to my being from the enemies that threaten us.
I want your hands to be the pockets, close yet separate, deeply rooted as if it were your faith placed near my sides. Holding me as I hold you.
I want our love to be the zipper, running through both our forms, creating a new feeling, making a new being, forging us.
Yet who are we? Who are we to claim to be so close in cloth yet so young in mind, so strong in emotion and so weak in body?
We are the very fabric of nature, hooking to machines that form the sewed outlines of other such fabrics, forming the earth and inciting war among our emotion.
We walk through the public proudly, you clinging to me and I, chest puffed like a bird in mating season, acquiring a taste for the strange looks and stranger people who deem to judge us based on their understanding.
Hot weather, cold weather, mild and comfortable weather. Rain or snow, sleet, hail, or hell’s heat, I intend to keep you close, as you are more than cloth covering me, you are the being caressing me, kissing my spirit and cradling my heart in the warm grasps of your fabrics, pressed closely to my chest in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, hiding my form so that none shall see what I deem stay hidden.
And I shall love you, I shall do all that I can to keep you safe and keep you near, mend you and wash you, clearing your mind and body of the impure, soaking your fabric and drying them out once more. Tonguing your soul while hugging you back, rubbing your threaded flaws and letting you know that they are necessary, that they are noted and left as forgotten. Unafraid to dawn you and worthy to criticize yet keeping grateful to have you when the nights get cold and my soul needs your warmth.
The world is a cruel place, and it gets worse every day, which is why, my love, I want you to be my jacket, and I shall be yours.

You.
I know you more than you believe I do, I’m afraid, so what you say has already been affirmed or denied by what I know about you.
I can feel that you’re hurting, but you won’t tell me what’s really going on, I’m not sure if giving up is an option that’s not worth the risk.
I’m afraid that you might hurt yourself, or worse. Is that such a bad thing? You don’t talk, you don’t eat, you don’t cry, you don’t bathe, you don’t think. You’ve nearly convinced me that you’re an addict of some sort, and it scares me.
I talk to you nearly everyday for the next few months to chill you out after rehabs, after your second and third chances, but you relapse severely again and again like you don’t want to quit. I cut you off and you cut your wrists. How can you resist? You resist me, the helper of the haul to you, you block me off as if I’m not wanted. But regardless, I’m here, like it or not.
I love you enough to care. You disappear for days and come back higher than the skyscrapers that I believe you imagine about. But when you come down hard into my arms you find the sensibility to cry at yourself. But it could be for my sake only, but it’s not working, I’m losing sleep over you, your health deteriorating, you’re stealing from me like I’m the enemy, but I’m still the only pillar that your castle has to stand on, and regardless of how hard you push, the weight of my position keeps me glued to you so that you don’t fall any harder.
But you won’t listen to me anymore, you’ve basically fired me from your life, who am I to complain, but then, who am I to comply? I know you want it, but you need me, and so all I can honestly do is pray that you don’t overdose on your pride or anything else long enough to get help…
I’m too late, they’ve found you once more, bruised, beaten and stuck in the clouds of your mind, laughing at nothing and speaking gibberish that even you probably can’t understand. Dying, beaten, hurting, needing, wanting, having. I should’ve been there with you, holding your hand making sure that the harm didn’t go to you. But they couldn’t give you back to me, they couldn’t help you out of the stupor that you had stooped to. And I couldn’t help either. It was time to let you go, permanently, I’m afraid. Why did you have to go? Why did you have to give into the desire for it? You knew it would only hurt you, why did you do it to yourself, to me?
The thunder claps in my ear as I cry at the grave of the loved one I used to know. Rains pour on me, winds rage, emotions flair. You’ve been in the ground for under two days and I already miss you. I miss everything about you… even your habit. I know what it does, but you’re gone, what do I have to lose?

My attitude has changed, my paradigm of the world has been tainted with the taste of sorrow and the funk of death. I become a phantom in skin, the angel of demons or the demon of angels, regardless, I feel alone and unwanted. And thus I follow you once more, thinking of you with syringes around me, life ebbing and waning, eyes shutting but slowly opening revealing an area of the city that I had never traveled to, a place in my domain that was foreign. I wanted to leave, but go where? And thus, with the face of you in my view and the thought of your voice in my ears, I slip down the road less traveled, following your footsteps once more.
Love lost, heart faded, alone in his own creation. The god has fallen, the wrong path has been taken…

@Un-named
Stop talking to me as if you know what you’re saying, you and I both know that you’re going through a motion that you never asked for. I feel the presence of a ghost everytime I pass your cold, and life-left form, but you never died, just grew colder and colder until your soul could no longer stand the chill of your frozen form.
And you know what you did, you broke me with your withdrawal, although money was never involved. You went around, scaring me with your promiscuity and crushing the very last thing of a soul that I had. Why? Why hurt me in that way? Why spit in my face as if I were the enemy in an ongoing, unknown war. Why? What is your synopsis? You know what, nevermind anymore.
I could hear the future on the first day I met you, it kept whispering in my ear words that I had constantly pushed into the back of my mind, letting your beauty take over my eyes and fill my brain with the fantasies that you placed there. You toyed with me, with my heart, and for that I must admit I am sad to be around you. You made me vulnerable to a disease that I had never ever felt before, but you dubbed it love, I dub it lust, ****** attraction is all we had, you didn’t want more.
But I did.
I wanted you.
Why couldn’t you accept that? If you were scared then you should’ve said so, hadn’t I showed you my easy-going nature? I never should’ve went with you to the movies that day, never should’ve played your silly games, never should’ve even acknowledged that you existed after the first mistake. Were we a mistake? That was the simple question I had asked you, was it really that hard a probe? Did it really require more than a few seconds of thinking? Well congratulations, You’ve shown exactly how you feel.
I’ll get over it, sure, it’ll take time, but I will, and you knew that which is why you played me so close like that. No, I’m not running back to you like a track-star. I want my way, you want yours, yet only one of us was willing for a compromise, Why? For god’s sake, Look me in the eye and tell me what you thought was the problem. No answer? So typical, I figured you’d exit on your own agenda once your motives were fulfilled. But before you go could you please lock my door back, I was writing before you ruined me and I intend to do so even after hearing this news. Too much has life placed on me to force me to comply with the demands of the god that I have sworn to love, yet everything seems to play me like a drum-set.
Love is war, lust is peace, yet one is perpetual and one is meant as a façade for the true meaning of what the other is supposed to offer. Not straight-forward, but still as ***** as an arrow, nevermind what we say, the world is our journal, hear the poet’s wounded roar.

This one goes out to the regular ladies. The ones popping pimples in mirrors and not worrying about make-up in the morning. The ones who say forget about their friends and go out exploring.
The ones who give kisses to random associates and giggle about it to their friends later but make sure somehow not to confuse him with emotions he had to create to start a feeling. The ones who keep the quiet ones closest and the loudest front and center.
The ones that pay attention to me, smile sometimes, and move on. You have no idea how it feels to be recognized once again, and I’m loving you guys for it. The ones who play with their hair in class, no ***** given about what you say to them about it.
This one goes out to the girls who keep a low-pro and just go with the flow, speaking only when spoken to and giving  false smiles as an indication of how little they are interested. To the girls who have a shyness that needs to be broken, but no party animals can claw through it without her unwilling will,
This one’s for the loners, all alone in a world that they refuse to abandon, sheltered by a reminiscence that doesn’t break through the storm of becoming current again. Those who were beginning something by themselves and ended up with a partner by the end, we know and we’re happy for you.
Now, I only named a few that this was for, but truly, it’s for all those who want it to be for them. I just want you to know that you’re not alone, ever. You’ve personally got an angel who knows what’s going on with you. A guardian if only you let them through,
And I know this, because I am one of those guardians, and I’m willing to serve and protect any who declare me employed for the task.

Thoughts

My thoughts are constantly changing, sometimes thoughts of an old girl, sometimes of an old friend, some times of a moment I let slip away into the oblivion that I call my atmospheric spaces.
I think of her now, and it’s almost been 7 months, and how exactly she changed my view. I think of them now, and wonder what they’re doing and hoping all is still well.
Do you think they still remember me? With most of the signs I picked up, all is usually forgotten at the end of the day, mutual friendly love is sizzled in the scorching heat of the quick moving sands of time.
Frustrated
Can there be any other word for it? A personality of sarcasm and subtle sweetness, a heart of pure gold and a soul that speaks tales of happiness, trial and sorrow.
Truth be told, I miss ‘em. Nearly everything about them. They were my real first look into the outside world, into a space beyond my own and into the universe beyond me.
Am I missed?
Perhaps now, but to know that I’m still a thought floating around that building, a clear question on a few minds and a few intimate memories is all that my heart wants.
I want to know that I am thought of, that I did leave a mark on the empty canvas they call Autaugaville, that thepoetic in thepoeticjustice is still un-forsaken and that my mind hasn’t been replaced with that of another. That although people come and go, I am still in the forethought of all those who saw who I was.
Again, these are just thoughts of mine, but they weigh heavy on my heart. So I want you guys to know that although you can be annoying, you can be pretty fun too. I love you all like the funny family that I had never quite had and let you all know that you are ever in
My thoughts.

It's in a sea swarming with strangers that reminds me of my size.
Some call me too big, others call me too little
But every time I'm surrounded by people
I begin to feel

Tiny

Is it worth it to you?
All these tears that wet my lips, are my lips moist enough for you? Warm and juicy like honey apples that stimulate the senses like only flavor knows how.
Was it worth it is all I'm asking.
I'm dizzy, floating, choking on the bitter taste of a pill i cannot swallow. Help me, help me, I can't keep my food down or my attitude positive, or my voice from cracking like the skin on my lips as they dry from a lack of kisses from you.
Everyone in the population is addicted to their phones, I was addicted to you. And it may sound a little unorthodox because I left, but I already miss you. I wish time moved like Microsoft word: ticking with each stroke of the keys you control and allowing for rewrites to reach a perfect conclusion, I miss you. Maybe more than the feeling of comfort that once inhabited my soul or the warm hands that once occupied mine, I was a faithful concubine.
But was i really?
Who would've known that a month could span years? We moved so fast and i couldn't switch gears so I knew we would either crash and see our relationship fears or stomp the breaks and leave in tears. Im stupid, I know. But I don't know how to change that

Her lips are so ashened that I feel the urge to lick them without seduction,
yet I kiss them and don't complain.
Her soul so dry that the rains fear her continues grounds of dramatic dryness.
Yet I continue to water her petals.
Her body so undesired that she barely looks at it. She carries each pound, from her unsatisfied lips and her ample breast to her thickened hips and woodened- brown toes, with a shrug of unacceptance.
Yet I still explore her with the interest of the lustful.
I kissed the lips of this wretched devil and grabbed Her by the backside as the knife in her tongue pierced my neck...
But I let it happen. So maybe I truly am to blame.
After all, to save a snake is a deed or valor indeed, but at the end of the day, the snake is the same animal it had always been.

maybe I am bedeviled by thoughts of you everytime my mind slips into the abyss, maybe that's the reason I don't tap into it the way I used to.
But If I told you how I felt, it'd get swept under the rug.

Suppose my eyes burn behind these creme- thick glasses everytime I see you, suppose I hate the silence and fight the urge to burn my surroundings with the heat behind my eyes.
But if I told anyone what I saw, it'd get swept under the rug.

Imagine I listen to music and hear your voice, so I claw my headphones out like they were ice seeping into my skull and freezing my cranium with words oh so soothing as a double-edged blade sinking both ends into me, Imagine a tear escaping my eyes, voice raising in a blatant attempt to ease the pain.
But If I said a word about what I hear, it'd get...... well, I think you know what'd happen.
Lets dig under that rug, four feet by four feet area of infinite emptiness.
Half of my life has been hidden in there: emotions, mental, thoughts, pains, lusts, curiosities, questions, intents, past, present and future, all have been hidden under that rug.
It's stitches are one with my soul because it has so many of my confessions that it absorbs part of my soul.
I trust that rug more than I trust some of the hoes I claimed to trust from day one.
I trust that rug more than I trust some of the friends I've had since meeting.
That rug has an affinity for gaining people's trusts, like me.
That rug produces more positive vibes than power chords produce energy, and yet we wonder why something being swept under the rug is a bad thing.
I sweep myself under the rug because I know I'll be safe there. I know that with all the thoughts and emotions I share, that with that safe haven, I am assured.
I rest under the rug, I cry under the rug, I sleep under the rug.
As it is my home.
And I love it's sincere serenity.

What's such a pretty girl doing with a stranger between her thighs and a camera in her face? What demons in her closet has she failed to embrace? What led her to this hallway of ******* that has her life hindered this way? doesn't she know that she's only a phase meant to fade away from the industry she's chosen?
As these thoughts enter my head, my lust always stays frozen. It leaves me wondering where my life is headed, hell, if she ran out of options what the hell is it gonna be like for me? I can't go into the adultery industry, so what will become of me? I hate to say it, but it made me sad laying there with a hand in my pants and my brain in high gear. There are no simple solutions for me in life, and I started to understand that.

My body a store and my heart is the item.
Remember, if you break it you buy.
But if its yours, I can give you a warrantee
Because I know that my prices aren't shy.

Tell me why there is so much hate in the world these days but every religion claims it teaches love. Tell me why people hate black people or why parents are ******* or why we spend 14 years at school institutions for free but have to pay thousands a year for a college education. tell me how the caged bird got that way. My curiosity is burning hotter than the sun on the burnt skin of my ancestors wiped out by conquistadors and brought across an ocean of blood tears against the tide of their will.
What am I doing here? Where did I come from and where am I going? Why wasn't i born into a rich white family? Why do I have to watch my mother struggle with lips sewn shut because we don't struggle as bad as other families? Why is money even a standard of living when it's just a piece of ******* paper? See, I'm convinced that this world ain't ****.

She explained it to me, told me all that she could about it and how she hated it.
Tears were in her eyes as she explained the pain she felt from the heartbreaking.
Her nose nearly ran and she sniffled as she cried in my arms, nuzzled under my chin, her shaking form nearly as cold as ice.
Her heart was once her own, her love was once brought only to the those who she deemed worthy, but that one person, that one human, made her empirical mind crash to the ground, ****** on by the rains of gloating hypocrisy. She is a shell and a mind of active saddened anger.
But she always forgets
that I know it better than she does

I know of love; I know of lust, I know what's fair and what's unjust. I've seen the light, I breathe the dark. I've had a whole and broken heart. I've kissed your lips and felt the bliss, and felt things I will truly miss.